This Time is Not Like the Last Time

The title of this blog post takes on a whole new meaning because WordPress freakin’ deleted my freaking’ blog post with no warning simply because I asked them to ‘pop-out’ the window it was in. They have also not saved it (WHY??? WHY??? Blogspot would not have done this to me!!! *shakes fist at sky*) and I now really don’t have time to write another because I’m on a break between Job No. 1 (arranging cosmetics at Sainsbury’s) and Job No. 2 (working in the restaurant at the pub) and I need to get back to Clapham Common.

SO FURIOUS WITH YOU RIGHT NOW WORDPRESS AND THE FACT THAT YOU ARE AN INANIMATE BEING AND CANNOT TALK BACK MAKES LIFE SO MUCH WORSE (ok, so I should have saved it, but I really, truly believed that WordPress was doing it for me, because these days I’m so used to things being backed-up and saved on other devices or what-not that I don’t ever really think to do it myself. Which is probably a really stupid statement and I KNOW there are times when you can’t get the data off of the magic hard-drive no matter how hard you try, but, oh, nothing bad has ever happened to me before, knock on wood, the loss of this blog post is probably the worst, so I have no motivation. I know, I know it makes no sense. But people don’t make sense, do they? Otherwise we’d all eat only as much as we needed and stop when we’re full; and we wouldn’t leave the heaters on all night long with the windows open when there’s global warming; and we wouldn’t be tricked by advertisers slapping ‘New and Improved!’ over the exact same product we’ve been using for years and then agree to pay twice as much for it. I really need to go back to trying and writing this stupid post again).

I’m back at Caffe Nero, with the free wi-fi, a bottle of Diet Coke, a packet of (now devoured) ‘salt-n-sweet’ popcorn, and a blog post to write (which was actually written, thanks SO much wordpress). But, the problem is (was) that I don’t quite know what to write about. Its a problem I’ve come up against quite a lot recently and have been pondering whilst I polish cutlery at the pub, or put the No. 9 lipsticks back in their appropriate boxes. In fact, rather than write this post, I spent a good twenty minutes going over previous blog posts and laughing embarrassingly to myself about how amusing they were (is it still dweeby if you laugh at your own jokes two to three weeks after you wrote them? Its probably more dweeby then, isn’t it?) Last year, it seemed like I spent most of my day composing blog posts in my head. One of the kids I was looking after said something cute: blog post. There was a nice sunset: blog post. I ate pancakes: blog post. But, these days… well, even the ‘sweet-n-salt’ popcorn won’t do it for me.

I do wonder if its a little case of ‘blog fatigue’, which another blogger friend of mine has written about recently (she is a wildly more successful blogger than I, probably because she is wildly more interesting and less self-absorbed), which you can read  here and then ponder whether or not you think this is my problem.

I also wonder if its because I’ve been reconsidering how much and what exactly I share on the blog. There’s only so many times that you can hear people say, ‘Oh you’re so honest on your blog, I could never be so honest,’ before you start to think that perhaps you are doing something wrong. Or, at least, something different to everything everybody else is doing. And whilst I still do wish to record as much of this experience as possible, if only so I can bore my future children with the stories ala ‘How I Met Your Mother’, I’m beginning to wonder if its actually necessary to record EVERY SINGLE THOUGHT that passes through my brain whilst overseas. Because, lets face it, some of the thoughts are exactly the same as I had back home, I’m just having them on a different hemisphere.

But, I think the main reason that I am having trouble finding things to write about these days is that everything is so very… well, ‘Australian’ here in London. My pub manager is Australian. One of the managers is Australian. The man who sat next to me at Caffe Nero is Australian. I’m living with an old high school friend. I went away to Suffolk with Australian university friends where we devoured Tim-Tams and Cadbury’s Green and Gold (Olympics edition!) and listened to Triple J Hottest 100 No. 6. My brother lives (a fair way) up the road. Another high school friends lives (a fair way) up another road. There’s Vegemite at Sainsbury’s. When I was cleaning the pictures in the pub yesterday I realised they were all old maps of the Melbourne Botanical Gardens. If I wanted to, I could spend my days watching ‘Home and Away’, ‘Masterchef Australia’, ‘Border Patrol’ and Australian real estate programs. Tim Minchin is EVERYWHERE.

Part of my brain is mounting a, lets admit it, fairly weak protest against all this blatant Aussie-ness. ‘No…’ it whines, ‘You should go meet British people and eat Eton Mess and Treacle Tart and Scotch eggs and watch Coronation Street whilst drinking warm beer or Pimms or the like.’ But, the other part of me is just so darn comfortable and happy that it can’t muster the required motivation to get off its arse and change the soundtrack from ‘The Whitlams’ to, I don’t know, ‘The Wombats’.

I think also, I’m becoming so used to being away from home that the myriad feelings of being an ex-pat are no longer as amusing, entertaining, upsetting, confusing or anxiety-inducing as they used to be. In short, I’ve calmed down a little bit, to everyone’s benefit, except perhaps, that of my poor little blog, who is feeling very neglected.

However, in the course of writing (and re-writing) this blog post, I have remembered various other things that I was meant to write about, so I will endeavour to do so in the next few days. In the meantime, I am going to continue my la-di-da comfy Australian/London existence by going and meeting some more Australians tomorrow night for a drink.

PS I don’t remember how I managed to elegantly segue from that last paragraph into my final comment of this blog (DAMN YOU WORDPRESS! In homage to Tenacious D, this post is now only a freakin’ TRIBUTE to the GREATEST BLOG POST IN THE WORLD), so I’m just going to have to whack it in at the end here and trust that you’ll understand that if it seems a little clunky, its genuinely not my fault or lack of skills as a writer. Trust that in the ORIGINAL blog post, this was the neatest and cleverest little tie-up that you ever had the benefit of reading on a blog.

Cue ending.

I will not, however, be risking a listen to Tim Minchin’s ‘White Wine in the Sun’, because that thing is just like Kryptonite at any time of the year.

Jenny out.



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Filed under Introspection, London

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